The Stories That Name Us
by bookstoreromantic
Summary: Post 1x05. A conversation between Emma and Archie. One-shot.


Characters: Emma Swan, Archie Hopper

Description: Post 1x05. A conversation between Emma and Archie. One-shot.

The Stories That Name Us

Most everyone had headed back to their homes, including Henry and Regina. Graham had gone to fill out paperwork, leaving just Emma and a few others still lingering near the mine. She noticed Archie a little ways away with his back to the sink hole, sitting on the ground with his dog.

Henry had said that they were okay; that he had just been confused about what was right. But Henry was ten, and it was her job to make sure. She decided not to think about how strange and foreign that sounded and instead walked over to the usually mild-mannered Dr. Hopper. "Tough day."

He looked up and patted the umbrella beside him. "Lucky to be alive I suppose."

Emma sat down beside Pongo and scratched the dalmatian's ear. "I think this guy deserves a bone or something when you two get home. We might not have found that shaft if not for him."

"I'll make sure he gets a special treat then."

Neither said anything for a little bit. Emma absentmindedly rubbed the dog's belly, her eyes on Storybrooke's resident therapist. Archie Hopper sat with his eyes closed, the faintest trace of a smile on his face as he soaked in the night and listened to the song of what sounded like over a hundred noisy crickets.

"Henry says you guys talked," she said finally.

Archie nodded. "It's not always easy to live up to being Jiminy Cricket."

Emma liked the shrink, and she hadn't liked many in her time. She wanted to just leave it at that. But while he seemed like a good man she had also seen him be manipulated by Storybrooke's overbearing mayor. So she took a deep breath and ploughed ahead. "He keeps the stories. Heaven help us, but he needs them and until he doesn't, he gets to keep them. And I won't let you, or Regina, or anyone else she gets to do her dirty work, take them away from him."

He winced. "Of course. Henry's imagination is precious. Nobody should ever try to take it away from him. I should never have..." He trailed off. "A child's ability to imagine a better world is the very thing that makes the world better as he grows up. Our stories stay with us. They inspire us. They shape us."

Emma gave something that fell between a snort and a laugh. "Tell me about it."

"What were your stories when you were his age?" he asked, adjusting his glasses to look at her.

Her hand unconsciously went to one of the necklaces she always wore. "When I was nine I stole a book of folk tales from the school library. You know the story of The Ugly Duckling?" He nodded. "Well I was convinced it was about me. An ugly duckling, stuck with a family that isn't his and doesn't want him. Who goes from home to home, place to place, until one day he discovers he's not a duck at all and is welcomed and taken in by a flock of swans."

"Well, it's understandable for a child with your name and in your situation growing up."

She shook her head and pushed the hair out of her face. "I named myself Emma Swan because of that book; changed it legally once I got out of the foster system. I was a Smith before."

"I guess sometimes our childhood stories stay with us forever."

The night air was cool on her arms and she rubbed at them. "What was yours?"

He shifted on the ground and brought the umbrella to rest across his legs. "You know, I can't really remember any in particular that stuck with me."

Emma laughed. "Henry would say that's because of the curse."

"Well he's given me a story now," he smiled at her. "He's lucky to have you in his life Miss Swan. I'm glad you decided to stay, regardless of what Regina thinks. I think you're going to be a good influence on him."

Emma tucked her knees up under her chin. "I just want to make sure he's okay, you know? Giving him up was... it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do." She looked at him. "You're a good influence on him too. When Regina's not throwing her weight around."

"That's not going to happen anymore." He said it quietly, but there was a determination there that Emma hadn't heard from him before.

"Good." She stood up and dusted herself off. "I should probably get going. I think Graham has some things for me to sign before I get to turn in for the night. You should probably think about heading home too."

"Yeah," he said, but his gaze turned back to the woods. "The crickets sure are something tonight, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are. Good night Archie."

"Good night Miss Swan."


End file.
